02.07.2013 - 02.07.2013
I'm in bed now. The sheets are clean and white, and we have nothing in particular planned tomorrow. It feels delicious. Though I slept for about half our 7-hour bus ride, I'm about to keel over. That feels delicious, too.
Cuenca. It rains. Whenever a car rolls over the pavement I hear how wet it is. Our hotel is downtown, just off the street with all the expensive-looking shops--or expensive-looking for here. Everthing feels dead at night, though.
Can't wait to sleep.